Bottle Green, Cold Grey
by zoomzoomjlm
Summary: Harry begins following Draco six years after Draco flees the wizarding world and renounces magic. Will they stay enemies, become friends, or become something more? Rated M for later mature themes and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his magical world, as that all sprang from the extensively imaginative mind of J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1

Draco spun about on the spot, dropping an entire pile of brightly colored t-shirts he had just folded.

"Shit," he swore loudly, seeing the utter mess he had created. The t-shirts had all come undone, requiring him to refold all of them. By hand. Without magic. He hated working in this stupid Muggle shop. Customers turned to stare, most just shooting him dirty looks and shooing their children away from the odd shop worker.

"Something wrong, Draco?" inquired Draco's prissy Muggle boss, Mila, who had snuck up on him after his outburst, as she usually did when in an unpleasant mood. "You know, I quite like you because all the female customers are attracted to you and can sell anything with that drawling charm of yours, but you're hardly up to snuff with the other workers. I mean, they can actually _keep the clothes off the goddamn floor_." She hissed the last phrase menacingly, and Draco knelt to scoop up the ruined pile. He plopped it on the table and began refolding the shirts. Draco never bothered to give Mila the time of day, knowing she would never fire him because of her attraction to him. He snorted internally at the thought, because he thought it was quite clear he was gay. No wonder all the female customers found him handsome, he actually had a fashion sense.

He paused his train of thought, thinking of what exactly had startled him and caused the shirts to go from his arms to the concrete floor of "Mila's Finest." He had sworn that he was being stared at for what seemed to be the fifth or sixth time in a week. Although Draco was used to being stared at for his lean body, his shockingly blonde hair, and his handsome face, he had a feeling this stare came from someone magical. Magical, and possibly threatening. Draco had left the wizarding world after the finale of the war, fleeing all traces of magic in the hope that he could find some _good_ inside himself after the evil that had been imposed on him had suppressed his light. After six years, Draco didn't really care. His horrible actions were behind him, and now he just focused on selling Muggle clothes and a warm glass of firewhiskey every night. He was done with magic.

As he left the shop at eight that night, Draco again slipped into his thoughts, not bothering to watch where he was going as he headed home. Most Muggles just stepped aside for him, realizing he wasn't really there. He walked the twenty blocks from the shop every evening except for during the winter, when even his finest cloak-given to him as a Christmas present from his father in his sixteenth year-wouldn't keep the cold wind from biting him through. Tonight, though, was a fine summer's evening, and the sun was just setting as he stepped up to his apartment door.

Jamming the key into the lock, Draco felt a twinge at his neck again. He wanted to turn around, or run, but he knew that whomever was following him would come to him on their terms, especially since he no longer owned a wand or did any magic. Even if he wanted to run, he couldn't. He brushed off the prickle at his neck, trying his hardest to fool himself into believing he was just going mad, and entered his flat.

Draco shucked off his summer coat and benignly tossed it onto a hook, looking at himself in the mirror as he did so. Smoothing his blonde hair back into place, he went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of firewhiskey. On a whim, he poured a second glass, took it with him to the living room, set it on the table, and waited.

Not ten minutes later, there was a small knock at his door, and, knowing that whomever had been watching him for the past week could enter without his permission anyway, lazily drawled, "Come in."

The door opened slightly, then, as if the person had needed to muster up the courage to fully enter his home, opened all the way more purposefully. Harry Potter strode into the room, shut the door behind him, put his cloak on one of the hooks, and unceremoniously dropped into the chair next to Draco. His legs spread naturally, and Draco appreciatively noticed that Harry was wearing hip hugging charcoal grey jeans, dragon skin boots, and a bottle green button-down shirt that looked as if it had been dipped in smooth ink. Turning his eyes from Harry's body and up to the striking green eyes, Draco, murmured, " I hoped it would be you and not one of the others."

Harry looked confusedly at Draco. "What, you think I've come to haul you off to Azkaban? You're more of a self-righteous git than I thought, Malfoy. I'm just here to talk. Plus, I'm not an Auror, if you must know." His eyes told Draco that everything he had said thus far was the truth, and Draco sighed.

"Fine. Why have you been following me for the past few days?" Draco implored, willing to play whatever game Harry was up to.

"Well, I honestly just wanted to see what you were up to." Harry took a gulp of firewhiskey, and Draco smirked ruefully at his presumptuous attitude. Harry obviously still thought very highly of himself, if he just waltzed into people's homes and drank their alcohol without asking. "Plus," Harry continued, snapping Draco back to attention, "I needed to return this to it's rightful owner. I've had it since I took it from you six years ago, and it obviously does me no good." Harry gently placed a wand box on the glass coffee table. Draco knew what it held, and shoved it back towards Harry.

"I don't want it." Draco said sharply.

Harry looked dumbstruck. He couldn't believe Draco was denying the hawthorn wand that had served him since he was eleven. It was not a typical action for a wizard, wands were extremely important because of their bond with the wizard they chose.

"Why not?" Harry exclaimed. "I haven't seen you use magic in the past week that I've been following you. I know you haven't got a new wand, and as far as I know you were never that good at wandless spells. Although, I guess you could have learned, seeing as you didn't have a wand..." Harry trailed off into thought, muttering to himself about difficult magic.

"No." Draco cut him off. "I don't use magic any more." Harry's mouth opened, and shut quickly, knowing his surprise would be assumed rude by Draco.

"Oh. Well. I still can't keep it, now that I've given it back to you. It won't work for me after I've done that, and I obviously have my own rather fabulous wand."

Draco snorted. He couldn't believe Harry had just used the word fabulous to describe his wand, of all things. "So flamboyant, Potter. I'm surprised at your language."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What, didn't know I'd broken up with Ginny and renounced my straight life?" Draco's mouth was the one to fall open this time, and he didn't bother to pick his chin up off the floor. Harry laughed at Draco's expression. "Whatever, Draco. You really didn't know? Really? How can you not? It was all over the press three years ago."

"You really think I bother with the wizarding press when I won't even do magic?" said Draco, finally coming to his senses. "No, I didn't know. You always seemed straight. But that's neither here nor there, seeing as I'm rather into males myself."

Harry laughed. "Obviously," he stated. "Everyone at Hogwarts knew that once Pansy Parkinson went about after you refused to kiss her and told people you were dating Blaise Zabini."

Draco's grey eyes flashed at the drugging up of old memories, and he was livid at the thought of Pansy and her childish ways. "Whatever. You've returned the wand I don't want, told me about your new found love of boys, and brought up one of the most embarrassing moments of my time at Hogwarts, although all six years there rather sucked. Now, if you would kindly leave. Or, rather, _fuck off_." Draco coldly stared at Harry, waiting for him to leave.

Harry got up as if to leave without saying a word. He turned towards the door, then suddenly spun about and walked straight up to Draco. He towered over him, and Draco couldn't help but let his eyes stray to Harry's crotch. Harry leaned over him, putting his arms on either side of Draco's body. His knees touched against Draco's, and his face came within an inch of Draco's face, which had an immeasurable expression on it. "No," Harry said definitively. He leaned even closer, as if to kiss Draco's lips, which had slightly parted in surprise and arousal. He wrenched himself away, standing up abruptly, and walked out of Draco's apartment sharply.

Draco had no idea what the fuck had just happened, but he knew he would be seeing more of that lovely arse that had just walked away soon if he had anything to do with it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter or his magical world, as all of it sprung from not my own mind, but the extensively imaginative mind of J.K. Rowling. _

_Enjoy._

Draco yawned compulsively as he stretched his arms out wide. He had just awoken from a restless night of poor sleep and dreams of determined green eyes. He felt lousy after the encounter with Harry, especially because he had let Harry get to him. Picking up the phone, he left a short message for Mila, saying he wouldn't be in for work today. He knew she would probably yell at him tomorrow when he came in perfectly healthy, but at the moment he cared little about what the Muggle woman might do. Come to think of it, he never cared about what she thought, or cared about anything at all, for that matter.

Groaning, Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed, walked to the bathroom, and started the water for a hot shower. He desperately wanted to see Harry, and he assumed he would soon after Potter's little act yesterday. He hated not having control of the situation, though, and seeing as Harry hadn't left any contact information there was little he could do until Harry showed up at his doorstep again.

Draco stepped into the now steaming shower, letting the pounding water relax his muscles in his shoulders and back. He was still toned even after a six year sabbatical from Quidditch, and he knew this was one of his many attractive qualities. Letting his mind wander, Draco began to think of Harry touching those muscles, massaging out the kinks, then slowly turning his head to kiss him softly. Realizing he had begun to masturbate to the fantasy, Draco finished quickly, knowing that it was pointless to try and shove Harry from his mind. The Boy-Who-Lived had apparently decided to live in Draco's mind as well.

Turning off the shower, Draco dried himself off and quickly dressed in black trousers and an off-white silk button-down shirt. Although Draco was by no means rich any more, the job at Mila's was enough to pay the rent on the small two room flat and to buy a few nicer shirts and pants. He had kept and continued to mend many of his clothes from six years ago, but he had frequently thought of abandoning this practice because it forced him to remember his father, his mother, and the people who had once cared for him. He assumed that they had forgotten him, and that he should eventually return the favor. It was just too hard to stop right now, he mused, especially when his enemy from the past was back to haunt him again. Sighing, Draco realized it would be pointless to try and do anything productive today. He made himself toast, poured out the two glasses of firewhiskey, and waited.

A few hours later, Draco awoke with a start in his chair. Someone, or something, was gently nudging him awake, and his eyes snapped open. Looking about, he saw no one and shook his head at his paranoia. Regretfully, he knew that once his slumber had been disturbed, there was no going back. Suddenly, there was a tapping noise in the room, and Draco quickly saw what must have awakened him. The wand (for he refused to call it "his" wand after renouncing magic) was shaking, little sparks coming out from its tip, and the end he would have held had he wanted to perform a spell was shimmying toward his hand on the table.

Jumping back, Draco grabbed a blanket from the sofa, snatched up the wand, and tossed it back in the box. He put the lid on firmly and sauntered to his bedroom, where he threw it in a dresser drawer and hoped to forget about it. He had felt an ache to touch the wand with his bare skin, knowing that he would feel more whole if he was a wizard once more. Draco, however, believed in firm punishment, and although he had put his past behind him, he still had an extremely guilty conscience. Taking magic away from himself seemed like a fair punishment for bending to the wishes of the Dark Lord when he had known it was depraved to do so.

Draco heard a small click of the front door being opened. He sat on the bed, knowing Harry would find him there, being the snoop he was. Didn't even bother to knock, Draco reflected, a smirk drawing his pale face into a state between a grimace and endearment. Without looking up, he heard Harry's footsteps and waited for him to speak.

"Hello." Harry said simply, holding the glasses of firewhiskey from the living room. "Ready for lunch?"

Draco looked up, a confused look upon his face. "What, going from nearly kissing me to taking me on a date, Potter? Seems you've got things backwards. I'm surprised you didn't jump my bones the second you started following me, if that's the way you go about things." He sneered, waiting for what he assumed would be Harry's indignant anger and frustration.

"Well, would you have liked me to?" said Harry inquisitively, playing along with Draco's game. He sidled up to Draco, sitting down on the bed right next to him. Their thighs touched as Harry's green eyes stared into Draco's grey ones, trying to break down Draco's snarky facade.

"Hardly." Draco snarled, as he grabbed the firewhiskey from Harry and downed it in one gulp. "As much as I'm attracted to those of the male gender, I'd never touch you."

Harry laughed grimly, believing Draco was telling the truth regardless of the way he had reacted to Harry looming over him the day before. He could hardly see Draco ever falling for him, much less having casual sex with him. "Hmmm, too bad..." he murmured to himself, quietly enough that Draco could politely pretend not to have heard. "I'm serious about lunch, though. We're going out. Come on."

Grabbing Draco's hand and wrenching him off the bed, Harry pulled them both toward the door. They quickly put on their cloaks and headed out.

Walking down the street in silence, both men shoved their hands in their pockets simultaneously and shuddered at the uncommon summer wind. It was slightly chilly today, and Draco wished he'd grabbed his autumn coat. "So where are we going for our date, Potter?" Draco snarked.

Harry smiled wryly, wishing Draco would drop the act and just relax. "I thought we'd go to the Dragonfly's Tail, the sandwich shop on third street? They have delicious split pea soup."

"Fine." said Draco shortly, and they resumed their silent and brisk walking.

When they reached the shop, Draco pulled the door open and held it for Harry. Harry muttered something about "thought it wasn't a date," which Draco ignored pointedly. He didn't understand why Potter insisted that good manners meant he was somehow interested in him. Noting this to himself, he decided to make more of an effort to be a complete and total arse.

"So," said Harry, as they both dropped into a booth and waited for a waitress to bring them water and menus, "why did you decide to stop using magic?"

"Wow Potter, going for the heavy right from the start? What, you don't want to know how my mother is doing, what my love life is like, and if I enjoy working in a Muggle clothing store? I'm surprised," Draco drawled, waiting for Harry to react poorly. Surprisingly, Harry just shrugged.

"Tell me about all of that first, if you like," he said, and then sat back comfortably into the booth's cushy seat, waiting for Draco to speak.

Draco began telling Harry about his life for the past six years. He had moved from place to place within England, and had only recently returned to London. He did not enjoy working in Muggle shops, but it was better than working in a wizarding shop and having to explain over and over that he would not-in his mind, Draco said could not-use magic. Skirting around the issue of his family, Draco merely said he had not seen them since fleeing, and did not wish to do so. He soon let on that he felt disconnected and alone, and was completely unhappy with his life, which consisted of working, charming people into buying clothes, and drinking firewhiskey to squelch the feelings of guilt and fear that clung to Draco's mind. Although Draco didn't say any of this directly, it was clear to Harry what the implications of his words were, and said so.

"So from what you've told me so far, you've been living as a Muggle for six years in total misery because you feel guilty about what you did to Dumbledore, your family and friends, and me." Harry said pointedly, trying to make sense of it all.

"If that's how you'd like to interpret it, yes." Draco replied, for once calm. He knew that Harry was right, and wasn't going to deny it. He was basically on a very long and sadistic run from his guilt and horror at his actions. Harry gently reached his hand out to Draco's on the table, praying he wouldn't retract it. Amazingly, he didn't.

"I'm so sorry that you feel guilty about what you did, but I agree with you that it was terrible." Draco grimaced at this comment, but Harry continued without taking notice. "That doesn't mean you should block your abilities as a wizard, though. You were amazing in all of our classes at Hogwarts, always second in the class to Hermione, which was no small feat."

"And second to you," Draco interjected, "at least, in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wasn't very preoccupied with_ defense_."

"It doesn't matter now. But seriously, holding back like this is harmful to your psyche and can actually damage your ability to do magic. You should try again. It's in the past now. I've certainly forgiven you for trying to kill Dumbledore, for being a Death Eater, and for acting like a prat all six years we were at Hogwarts." Harry chuckled, and continued, "Plus, the Ministry dropped all charges against you, even after you fled." Draco cocked an eyebrow, and Harry nodded in affirmation. "Seriously, they held a trial and everything, but quite a few people came and testified about how you were actually a nice guy, but you couldn't say no to Voldemort or you would have gotten yourself and your family killed."

"And who would these kind fans be?" Draco snapped, moving his hand from under Harry's. He didn't want people defending his actions. He should have given up his life instead of take on the Dark Mark and the evil that went with it.

"Me," said Harry plainly. "You can't keep punishing yourself for the actions of your 17 year old self."

"Please, let's just drop it," Draco looked at Harry pleadingly.

"Fine. Let's go, then," said Harry, not wanting to push Draco too far. Harry threw a ten pound note on the table from his dragonskin wallet and stood. They walked out into the now dark street, suddenly realizing they had spent hours in the sandwich shop talking. Glancing over at Harry, Draco wondered if he was upset about spending so much time away from...whatever it was that Potter did with his life. If he was upset, he certainly didn't show it. Harry pulled out a lighter and a menthol, offering one to Draco. He accepted silently as they leaned against the brick wall of his building, waiting for Harry to pass him the lighter. Harry was having trouble with it, as it wouldn't catch.

"Here, let me," said Draco, as he pulled out his own lighter from ages ago. He still kept it with him, though he only occasionally smoked, and it had the Malfoy crest of two serpents entwined into an infinity symbol on it. He stepped in front of Harry, put the lighter up to Harry's face, and flicked it. The flame illuminated the green eyes searching for him in the dark, and as the cigarette caught, the eyes closed. Draco couldn't help but notice how the thick eyelashes cast gorgeous shadows over Harry's face under the glow of the still flickering lighter and the ember of the cigarette Harry was dragging on.

He shut his lighter, but didn't move from where he was. Draco desperately wanted to kiss Harry, as they stood intimately in the dark. As Harry pulled the cigarette away from his mouth, he looked up at Draco, who appeared torn and extremely worried, and was running his left hand through his blonde locks. Harry smirked, waiting for Draco to make the first move, and Draco suddenly realized Harry hadn't exhaled. Leaning closer, Draco closed his eyes and opened his mouth, placing it softly on Harry's. As Harry exhaled, the smoke flew into Draco's lungs, as did Harry's distinct _taste_ of peppermint and some other light and delicious flavor that Draco couldn't identify. Sighing the smoke out contentedly, Draco opened his eyes, looking into Harry's and waiting for the rejection that didn't come. Draco kissed him softly again, slowly and sweetly. He laced his hand in Harry's, took the cigarette from Harry's other hand, and threw it on the ground. He crushed it as he led Harry up the stairs to his apartment, indulging in the knowledge that someone in this world accepted what he had done, and was still willing to kiss him-even if only in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter, as you know. The wonderful world within which he lives belongs to J.K. Rowling._

_A/N: I'm sorry this is rather short, and took me a while. I hope you enjoy it, even if I'm not completely happy with it. _

"Fuck!" Draco cursed, as he woke up and remembered what had occurred last night.

He had led Harry up the stairs to his flat, and as he began to unlock the door, Harry had turned him around and kissed him fiercely. Draco's breath had hitched, his eyes fluttered closed, and his hands had wound into Harry's hair. The kiss seemed to go on for an eternity as they explored each other's mouths, dancing their tongues together and letting out soft moans. Harry broke off and began nipping down Draco's neck as Draco gasped with the intensity and intimacy of it. Harry's hands had pinned Draco's arms up above his head as Harry sucked at the skin concealing his collar bone, and Harry bit down gently, drawing just a little blood. He had licked the skin there, sealing it back over and finally kissing the spot. Leaning his forehead into Draco's shoulder, Harry had softly murmured.

"So, I thought you'd never touch me?" Harry's eyes had a hurt quality to them when he looked up at Draco, and his voice had a mask of fake calm coupled with burning curiosity.

Draco had laughed, then stated, "Harry, you're silly to think I was telling the truth. I was just denying my attraction to you. It's pretty clear that I like you, don't you think?"

Shrugging, Harry had sighed dejectedly and let Draco's arms fall. "I won't be used, Draco. I know I'm the first person from the wizarding world you've been in contact with for a long time, but I won't have sex with you just because we have a past in common. I'm glad you're attracted to me because I think you're bloody hot, but I'm not going to let you use me. Especially when I'm not sure if you actually like me or just want to shag me out of convenience. I did have a good time today, though. Let's hang out again sometime, right?"

Nodding stupidly was the only cue Draco gave that he had heard Harry, and Harry had put his hands in his pockets, turned on the spot, and apparated with a soft 'pop.'

Now, Draco wanted to kick himself for how stupid he had been. He had moved too fast, made Harry think he was just a convenient shag, and still didn't have his number. Fuck. He sighed, knowing there was little he could do about his idiocy now. He showered, got dressed, and began walking to work. While he walked, he began thinking of what Harry had said about having a past in common. The thing was, Draco wanted to have a future in common with Harry, too. But Harry was deeply involved in the magical world. He knew he wasn't in love with Harry, so he obviously couldn't just up and ask him to leave magic. It was clear to Draco that he would either return to the wizarding world for Harry, or he wouldn't see much of Harry at all. Or, if Harry cared about him enough, he would come and visit Draco frequently despite his hermit status. Pondering these possibilities, Draco strutted in to Mila's Finest and went to clock in, albeit ten minutes late because of his musings.

"Oh Draco! How lovely to see you perfectly healthy and back the day _after_ our biggest sale of the year, and with a hickey on your neck, no less! Oh, and you're terribly late," Mila harumphed. Draco internally cursed himself for wearing a v-neck tee shirt without checking his collarbone. Of course, if he was still using magic, he could have just gotten rid of the hickey...pushing that rather inconvenient thought from his mind, Draco sighed and pretended to look ashamed of himself. He ended up looked amused instead.

"Seriously, Draco! This is the last straw! I can't keep an employee who doesn't show up on time, curses around customers, and isn't presentable! Plus, you won't even go out with me! I'm going to have to fire you," sighed Mila, obviously expecting Draco to plead or to promise to take her out so he could keep his job.

"Okay," said Draco, rather happy to be rid of the dreadful woman and the horrible job which he had never wanted to take on in the first place. He strode out, ignoring Mila's roar of indignation and her calls of "Wait! I didn't mean it! Come back!"

Knowing he had enough money in his bank account to support himself for a few months, Draco relished in the fact that he never, ever, had to go back to the Muggle shop. However, the damper on this newfound freedom was two-fold. 1) He would eventually have to get another job, and 2) He had no non-magical way of telling Harry and spend time with him during his next few months. Draco knew he had to somehow earn Harry's trust, but he wasn't sure as to how he should go about that, let alone contact him. These depressing facts weighed on Draco heavily, and, as was his usual routine when he walked through the door of his flat, Draco poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and began to brood. He fell asleep on the couch, and was awoken by Harry softly brushing his hair from his eyes.

"Hello, stranger," murmured Harry in a soothing voice. "Quit your job today, right?" Draco nodded sleepily, opening his eyes just to confirm that it actually was Harry and not just a very vivid dream. Harry sat down next to him on the edge of the couch, still gently stroking his hair. "I hope you weren't freaked out by what I said last night. Don't worry, I want to get to know you better, and I want you to know me. I'm not just going to run off." Draco smiled contentedly. It was almost as if Harry had read his mind and known of all of his worries. Come to think of it, Harry had once taken Occlumency lessons with Severus, so he might be able to. Trusting Harry not to do that, however, was very easy, and so he assumed the best of his new friend.

"Come one, let's get you into the bed," Harry said, and Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry blushed profusely, realizing what he had implied. "No, not like that, so you can sleep better! Sweet dreams! All that jazz!" Harry continued to rant to cover up his embarrassment.

"I'll only go back to sleep if you sleep too, Potter, it looks like you haven't slept in days." Draco had noticed through his fog that Harry's hair was thoroughly messy, his clothes were wrinkled and out of place, and he had deep, purple bags under his eyes. Harry looked exhausted.

"Okay," said Harry, surprising Draco with his immediate agreement. And with that, Harry laid Draco down, tucked him in under the covers, and went off towards the couch.

"No. Next to me." Draco demanded groggily, as he was almost back to sleep. He stayed awake just long enough to feel Harry's warm body press up against his and feel Harry draw him closer. The two men whom had once been enemies both slept soundly for the first time in years with the warmth of each other to keep them comfortable and content.


End file.
